Doctor Who: Descent Into Madness, Part I
by jjhatter
Summary: The Cloister Bell echoes throughout the TARDIS as the Doctor and Ace arrive in a place where they shouldn't, where there can be found a carnivorous shape-shifter, a cannibal cook, a tyrant whose only title is the queen of fools, and a maniac who has some unfinished business with Time himself. A collaborative effort with newcomer VanSkittles. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1

**IMPORTANT! READ THESE AUTHOR'S NOTES!**

_Me: Greetings, my fellow lunatics! It is I, J.J. Hatter, Master of All Wonderlandian Whackos!_

_VS: And I, Van Skittles, the Great and Powerful! Welcome to me and J.'s first collaborative effort, as well as __**my **__first venture into fanfiction in general!_

_Me: Well, for those of you who don't know me, I am utterly obsessed with Lewis Carroll's Alice stories, having collected nearly 400...things, for lack of a better, all-encompassing word, related to the books (actually maybe more, though I doubt less...I kid you not, and still have a LONG way to go yet in my collection)._

_VS: And I, fellow Whovians, am just that: I am about as obsessed with Doctor Who as J. is with Lewis Carroll's works. I have all the Dalek episodes (and more, but most of my Classic Series DVDs are the Daleks), complete seasons from the show, Heaven-Knows-How-Many toys and action figures, and a Tom Baker scarf & hat...and that's just the tip of the Sea Devil Iceberg!_

_Me: Naturally, a crossover was inevitable. It is an attempt that several have tried..._

_VS: And few have COMPLETED._

_Me: AND COMPLETE IT WE SHALL!_

_Both of Us: "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; or close the wall up with our English dead...the game's afoot! Follow your spirit, and upon this charge, cry 'God, for Harry, England, AND SAINT GEORGE!"_

_Me: __**NOW FOR THE BORING STUFF!**_

_(Pause)_

_Me: ...I'm posting this, I'll...I'll take care of it..._

_VS: Indeed._

_Me: ...Ahem..._

Rating: T (And we hope to keep it that way...but, seeing as we are both sick in the head, it MAY be raised...)

Disclaimer: _Doctor Who_ does not belong to us; it belongs to the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC). This take on Wonderland, however, is OURS. (Since Carroll's works are in the public domain, we CAN claim this...however, the original stories, obviously, belong to Lewis Carroll himself. _En pace requiescat...)_

Summary: _Me: Actually, Van, would you do the honors here? You wrote most of it..._

_ VS: All right..._

The Cloister Bell can be heard throughout the TARDIS as the Doctor and Ace arrive in a place where they shouldn't. Outside those doors can be found a carnivorous shape-shifter, a cannibal cook, a tyrant whose only title is the queen of fools, and a maniac who has some unfinished business with Time himself. Brace yourselves, for this is not the Wonderland you know. Welcome, Foolish Mortals, to the Madhouse.

_ Me: Very nice._

_ VS: Thank you._

_ Me: I'll take back over from here, then..._

Notes: This story, in keeping with the Sylvester McCoy era's style, will be told as a serial; **this is just the first of a four part series. **Just saying, just in case the title didn't indicate that. Also, if any of you lovely readers have no experience, for whatever reason, with the 7th Doctor and Ace, you can find most of their episodes on Dailymotion, and a few on YouTube...or, just buy the DVD(s). That works, too. (Personally, we recommend _Remembrance of the Daleks, Curse of Fenric, Battlefield, _and _The Happiness Patrol..._the lattermost episode is referenced in this chapter.) The TARDIS here is based on the version from _Doctor Who: The Movie, _which shows what caused the 7th Doctor to regenerate, among other things. I (J.) know that it wasn't the mainstream TARDIS for McCoy, but I like it more than the one from the show itself. Please, Whovian allies of my dearest friends and fellow authors Katzsoa and Van Skittles, don't kill me. "If you believe in me, then I'll believe in you."

_VS: Is that quote from "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland?"_

_ Me: Actually, "Through the Looking-Glass." You were close._

_ VS: Curses. "KHAAAAAANNNN!"_

_ Me: ...Did I mention he's a Trekkie, too?_

_ VS: Enough about that. Engage! Fanfiction on-screen!_

_ Me: YES, CAPTAIN!_

And so, good readers, having completed quite possibly the longest author's note I, J.J. Hatter, have ever written, allow me to present...

**Chapter I: Crash Landing**

Picture a tunnel burrowing through space and time, so deep and so penetrating you would never know about it till you got inside. To describe the time vortex, picture a tunnel filled with chaotic beauty, ripples of time set ablaze encompassing everything that has been and everything that will come to be. Hurtling through this grub-dug passage, picture a the most majestic craft: a flying blue police phone booth—of all things—spinning like a gyroscope as it pierces through the vortex. Picture this object gliding like a boomerang at super-supersonic speed, moving back and forth through time, over, under, and around galaxies, from era to era, world to world.

Curious, isn't it?

Curiouser and curiouser: it's much bigger on the inside.

Much, MUCH bigger.

Now, imagine the interior: a cavernous realm of metal, lights, tunnels, stairs, swooping arches, a few lifts, and circling catwalks. A soft, constant buzzing of machinery mingles with the quiet sound of soft music from an aged phonograph just adjacent to the ship's control room. The control room itself is held by four large arches meeting together at the center column that is the ship's computer. This computer is set on a large, pedestal-like base—hexagonal in shape—for its controls, with a massive column featuring a rotor set in constant motion. Just imagine such a fantastic machine, one so fast it makes our modern, Earthly supercomputers look like turtles.

Yes, turtles.

This is the TARDIS—well, more technically, it is _a_ TARDIS, but, since it is the only one present in this tale, we can refer to it as the definite article. The word TARDIS is, in fact, an acronym, short for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. A time machine and space ship, all in one, an incredible feat of trans-dimensional technology.

A police box that can travel anywhere through time and space, traversing the unthought-of plains of the fourth and fifth dimensions, might be looked upon as some act of sorcery by species much like our own. In reality, it was all the result of some advanced scientific engineering beyond our comprehension, but no one can deny the magical quality of this box. Just imagine being whisked away from this blue sphere of ours, and, in an instant, standing on an alien planet. Picture taking in the sights and scents of a foreign land, seeing all those strange creatures, and beholding the countless wonders of the universe; all this and more could be accomplished by the TARDIS. Just imagine for one moment such a thing was possible, and in that moment you would find yourself inside the console room of this wonderful machine.

A loud BANG! interrupted the soft hums, followed by a short yelp.

From beneath the control panel, a figure popped up, rubbing his sore head. His hands mussed his dark brown hair, and his blue eyes blinked fast in response to the pain. The man wore a light gray safari jacket, the lapels of which half-covered a paisley scarf slung about his shoulders. A fob watch was hooked onto his lapel, snuggly placed settled in his left breast pocket. He placed a white Panama hat with a red and green striped hatband—which matched his tie and the handkerchief protruding from his lower coat pocket—onto his head as he rose, hissing through his teeth. His trousers were olive with a plaid pattern, with his feet covered with brown shoes with spats. Over his white collared shirt, and under his jacket, was a yellow pullover sweater, covered in zig-zagging turquoise stripes and red question marks, the latter of which matched the strange, scarlet handle of his black umbrella.

Who is this fellow?

We'll call him the Doctor.

"Doctor who," you ask?

Good question.

The Doctor belonged to a race of beings known as the Time Lords who had long held mastery over time and space. The Time Lords held such incredible power, power which under the wrong hands could be catastrophic to our universe and the universes beyond. To prevent any such corruption, the Time Lords vowed never to interfere in the affairs of lesser beings. However, some found this creed of unacceptable, and were cast off as renegades. The Doctor was one such renegade who stole a box and ran away, ran so he could see the infinite majesty of time.

Along his several journeys, he has encountered the most marvelous things. However, he has also met the most heinous creations that stand against all that we hold dear, that see what we perceive as evil to be good, and act towards the total extermination of all life that is different from their own. He has fought these creatures with the weapon of wit and sheer intellect, reigning triumphant over the cynicism and brute force of his enemies. The Doctor was no mere Time Lord, and certainly not one to be trifled with.

He has traveled for many centuries and has always stood for what is right. These qualities have remained constant with the Doctor, but little else has remained the same. As a Time Lord, the Doctor did not die, but rather regenerated into a new body, with a new face and a renewed spirit of adventure. The Doctor had undergone this process six times before, making this his seventh incarnation. Over his many lives, he has travelled with the most brilliant of companions, but even they had come and gone. He was seldom alone, however, always opening the doors of the TARDIS to some kindred spirit who too longed to see new stars and the splendor of the worlds beyond.

So there he stood in the TARDIS, setting a course for their next destination.

"Ace!" called the Doctor, in his light Scottish accent and reedy voice, hardly reflective of his incredible mind, filled with over 900 years of knowledge. "Have you rrrelocated my spoons?"

Somewhere above him, from one of the TARDIS' many catwalks, a decidedly female voice responds with a simple, "No, Professor!"

The Doctor sighed, with his fingers drumming thoughtfully over his umbrella handle.

"Oh, where could they be? I'm out of practice at playing them!"

"You were out of practice when you lost them."

"Ace!"

"It's true!"

The Doctor rolled his eyes and ran to another area of the control room, the Time Lord's two hearts pumping with agitated excitement. He scuttled about, rummaging through a bookshelf in the sitting room, where the aforementioned phonograph sat beside a jeweled lamp and a glass bowl filled with Jelly Babies. These objects could be found on a wooden desk beside an antique chair with red and gold cushions, but one object he could not find were his spoons. He grumbled softly in an alien language.

"It's hardly a surprise," came Ace's voice once more. "I mean, there's gotta be at least a hundred rooms in this place as it is..."

"More than that, though that doesn't exactly help. Did you check the closet?"

"Closets, with an 's.' In the thirty-seven I've checked so far, all I've found of interest are some old notebooks, a broken cricket bat, a yo-yo, a model train set..."

She trailed off.

"And?"

"Make that thirty-_eight_ closets. Who wore THIS patchwork abomination, anyway?!"

The Doctor paused, immediately knowing which outfit his young companion was referring to.

"Um...w-w-well, you know, some cultures do find such...er...bold colors and designs a sign of friendliness."

"Where I come from, it's a sign of horrible taste, Professor. I say it should have died with disco, if not sooner."

"Oh, never mind that!" snapped the Doctor, and returned to the bookshelf.

As he moved on to a second shelf, he heard a door open somewhere above him...

"OI!"

"What now?"

"Professor...did you even _know_ you had a swimming-pool?!"

"Never mind that, Ace, they wouldn't be in there..."

"Forget the spoons, you have a _swimming-pool!_ With a diving board, no less! Might pop in next time there's a nasty invasion, or something..."

The Doctor growled softly, ignoring her, and continued to check the shelf.

A few minutes later, as he checked the drawers of his desk, where the phonograph and lamp sat, he inquired once more:

"Any sign of them yet?" he whined, like a little boy wondering if a trip was over.

"Now that you mention it, I'm beginning to think you left it on that circus world...or maybe the one with those candy-coated buzzkills..."

"Peachy; narrows things down splendidly."

"I'm doing my best, Professor..."

The Doctor paused, leaning on his umbrella and biting his lip in thought.

_Hmm...maybe I DID leave them behind somewhere. Perhaps on-_

**WHAM!**

A sudden lurch and a groan echoed from all around. The Doctor cried out, falling into the nearby chair. The lights flickered, flashed, and, somewhere overhead, he heard a short scream.

"Ace! You all right?!"

"Fine! Just-"

**WHAM!**

Another lurch, and the chair spun around. A second scream and a faint splash echoed somewhere above.

"WHOA THERE! ACE?!"

"Just a bit wet; I was about to double-check the swimming-pool..."

"Ace, do you not grrrasp the situation...?!"

**WHAM!**

"AGH!"

The chair slid back first into the control panel.

With a wry smirk, the Doctor turned the chair around fast, hanging the umbrella on the armrest. His hands flew over the console, as the lights continued to flash and the ship continued to shake.

A few moments later, a damp hand touched his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked, not turning around.

"No," said Ace, a teenaged girl with a ponytail tied halfway up her light brown haired head, held down with a yellow scrunchee. She was dressed in black leggings, shoes, a miniskirt, and a leather jacket covered in a variety of badges, pins, and patches, with her name stenciled onto the back; all sopping wet.

"This is my favorite jacket," she mumbled.

"Ace..." the Doctor half-snarled.

"I know, I know. What's wrong now?"

"Not really sure...this isn't just normal turbulence..."

Suddenly, a loud, ominous tone resonated throughout the entire ship as it swayed and lurched. Red lights blazed all around the console.

"What's that?"

"Cloister bell...rings when there's trouble..."

"Well, it's a little late."

The Doctor's eyes widened.

"TARDIS says something's caught her in mid-flight...some kind of force, a gap within the time vortex..."

"Is that even possible?"

"Apparently."

Just then, the shaking stopped. Soon it felt as if the entire ship was in free fall. Ace grabbed onto a nearby ladder, while the Doctor gripped onto the control panel to keep from sliding.

"Crash landing!" he shouted. "Hold on tight, Ace! We're nearly-"

_**KER-WHAM!**_

__The Doctor gasped as he fell backwards out of his chair, hat flopping over his face. Ace fell flat on her back, as well.

"...There."

Ace sat up, wincing a bit. She then glanced over to her right.

She stopped short, eyes wide.

"Er...Professor..."

"Ach, what is it NOW?!" snapped the Doctor, sitting up only slightly.

Ace smiled sheepishly, and held up two small, silver objects.

"I found your spoons..."

The Doctor's eye twitched.

And, with a groan, he flopped back onto the floor.

Then, for a short while, everything was still.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II: Right, Left, Wrong...**

The Doctor bit his lip in concentration, with his hat and umbrella hooked to the armrest of the chair near him. He chose to stand as he feverishly worked at the keyboard. His tongue was stuck out slightly in rapt concentration. His blue eyes grew bright and eager as his hands flitted over buttons and snatched at levers on the TARDIS' control panel. His gaze was constantly darting to and from the screen before him.

"Come on," he muttered. "Tell us where we are..."

Ace—dressed in her usual black clothes, sans her jacket, which was still a bit wet—came up behind him, and made to lean on the control booth.

"Anythin' yet, Professor?"

The Doctor frowned and swatted at her hands.

"Please, don't lean on the controls, Ace; I'm having enough trouble, thanks to that landing."

"I'll take that as a 'no.'"

The Doctor sighed.

"I don't understand," he mumbled. "The TARDIS usually doesn't take this long to analyze a location."

He glanced back up at her.

"She'll come around though," he said. "She always does."

"'She?'"

"Did you put those spoons away?"

"They're in the desk drawer over there," Ace said, pointing. "Just like you told me. Oh, I also picked up that phonograph. You're lucky it didn't break."

"Yes, yes," the Doctor said simply, keeping his eyes fixed upon the screen.

Ace rolled her eyes.

The Doctor abruptly sat up straighter, eyes wide, grinning delightedly.

"Ah! That's it!"

"You've got something?"

"Yes, finally! I..."

The Doctor trailed off, his smile vanishing as quickly as it had come.

"Oh...no..."

"What is it?"

The Doctor did not answer her. He stood up suddenly, angrily, slamming the console and yelling seemingly into thin air.

"That can't be right!" he shouted. "You know as well as I do that it's locked!"

After a pause, the Doctor huffed to himself, pacing impatiently around the control board.

"Professor?" Ace began, carefully. "Are you...all right?"

"No. I'm not all rrright! Nothing is! This ought not to be happening at all!" he raved.

Then, after another moment, the Doctor took a deep breath.

"We shouldn't be here," he said, half to himself, eyes turned down.

"You mean, we should leave?"

He shook his head, frustrated.

"No, I mean we shouldn't _be here!"_ he almost screamed, hands flailing. "Where we are should not even be accessible, even by the High Council of Time Lords!"

"Where's 'here?'"

"Somewhere we shouldn't be, of course!"

"Well...CAN'T we leave, then?"

"Not likely...not now. Not given where we're at."

"Then what's out there?" Ace responded, growing equally exasperated, gesturing towards the exit of the ship. "I mean, how did we even get here?"

"Not sure," the Doctor admitted, a bit begrudgingly. "Seems like some sort of...temporal disturbance, a force that generated a crude wormhole, able to pass through the time vortex and snatch the TARDIS through a time corridor."

"Gotta be some insanely advanced technology, I take it, to do that?"

"Everything's insane here..." the Doctor whispered, more to himself than Ace, his eyes vacant in expression.

Ace blinked.

"Come again?"

"Nothing, nothing," the Doctor said softly, shaking his head fast. The Doctor then turned on his heel and practically marched over to the chair. "I'm going to investigate this."

"You mean, _we're_ going to investigate this."

"No," the Doctor said, dully, flipping his white hat into the air. It landed neatly onto his head.

Ace groaned, crossing her arms.

"So, you're just going to go off into a place you say we shouldn't be able to see, and not tell me anything?"

"Yes."

"You're makin' a bad habit of that, recently..."

"Listen to me, Ace!" the Doctor snapped, pointing his umbrella at her. "If the TARDIS is correct, the world we are on is, without a doubt, one of the most hostile places in the unknown universe. I'm relatively safe...note the word 'relatively'...but a newcomer like you might well be lying dead before taking seven steps outside the TARDIS."

"Newcomer? You've been here before?"

"Furthermore," the Doctor went on, ignoring her, holding up a hand to silence her as he moved closer, "If _I_ am correct, you may not even believe me when..."

"Meaning 'if...'"

"...I tell you where we are. Therefore, there's simply no point in you joining me to be quite possibly rrripped into rrribbons in a land you thought never actually existed."

"What do you mean, 'thought it never actually existed'? Where are we?"

The Doctor opened his mouth...then shut it, smiling mischievously. He wagged a finger at her teasingly.

"Nice try. I'll explain later," he said, then walked past her, simply saying, "Just stay put!"

"Right."

The Doctor stopped before the exit, then paused, and turned back around.

"Do you mean 'right,' as in, 'right,' or as in the Earthly colloquialism of, 'yeah, right'?"

"'Right' means 'right,' Professor."

"Right. That's that."

And then he was gone, with a tip of his hat.

Immediately, Ace ran to the elevator lift, and went up to her quarters on the ship. She grabbed a black-and-white backpack, with a plain metal baseball bat stuck in it via a makeshift holster, bulging with its dense contents. She then grabbed her jacket—which was still damp—as it was something the young lady wouldn't dream of leaving it behind.

Putting both on, she went back downstairs, and dashed to the exit.

She smiled.

_Good...he forgot to lock the door. Again._

And, thus, Ace exited the TARDIS. After shutting the door, she looked around.

She found herself in a curious, dark forest, the trees much like those on Earth, but with leaves of a midnight blue color. The sky was painted in pale violet and gold; it was late afternoon. A strange potpourri of alien, "spicy" smelling scents filled her nostrils.

Suddenly, a bizarre insect buzzed by her. She gasped: it looked like a dragonfly, except that its body looked like a sprig of holly, it smelled like plum pudding—and, strangest of all—ITS HEAD WAS ON FIRE.

Ace jumped slightly as the curious bug flew closer, as if inspecting her, getting smoke in her face. She coughed, and swiped at it instinctively, watching it as the weird creature flew away.

"A...snap-dragonfly?"

As she was pondering this, she spotted a path that lead further into the woods.

She grinned, and adjusted her backpack, setting off at a jog.

"Sorry, Professor," she said to herself, "But SOMEONE'S got to keep you out of trouble, after all..."

As she disappeared, a figure stepped out from behind a tree, gazing after her, shaking his head in amusement...holding a question mark-handled umbrella.

"Yeah, right."

**Elsewhere...**

A gnarled, gaunt figure, seated on a throne of vines, sighed to himself. From his mouth emanated a ring of emerald smoke, shaped into the outline of a shamrock, into the air.

As the cloud scatters, hitting the dark ceiling, the figure smiles, taking in a wheezy, thin breath. Three red eyes open simultaneously, all set in the same face.

"The Time has come," it whispers. "One wonders...how will the quarrel end...?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III: Resident Royalty**

"And so, it is our royal declaration, to you, fellow maniacs, that we, nay, I have brought Time before us today! As was prophesized by this world's oldest inhabitant, so shall it be! The hour of the Jabberwocky draws nigh, but fear not, for we shall—"

"Er...Your Majesty?"

The King of Hearts whipped around, with his long, black cape flipping as he turned. He was dressed in a red military uniform, with a simple crown of gold, shaped into a plain hoop. He frowned harshly behind his bushy black beard, glaring with dark, piercing eyes at the tiny figure in the doorway of his chambers: it looked like an enormous white rabbit, about four feet tall as it sat on its haunches, dressed in a olive green waistcoat, vest, and bow tie, wearing a monocle and carrying a pink umbrella under one arm. White mitten-like gloves covered his paws, and he trembled, ears flat.

"Not now, you worm!" the King boomed, pointing down with a black-gloved finger, imperiously, bombastically, dramatically. "I am practicing my address to the populace, for when the time is right!"

He turned on his black-booted heel, and gazed into the mirror.

"Now," he murmered. "Maybe it would seem more impressive if we take our cape and…yes, let's try!"

The King cleared his throat.

"The hour of the Jabberwocky...DRAWS NIGH!"

As he finished the last two words, the King swirled his cape about his shoulders theatrically.

The Rabbit ducked, having entered further into the room.

"Um...sir?"

"Yes! Perfect! What else...ah! Ahem...I promise you this, oh people of our world, as KING!"

Another swirl, another duck. The Rabbit bit his lip.

"Sir."

"Aha, yes! Such elegance! Such spectacle!"

"Sir!"

"Don't shout!" the King snapped. "What is it, underling?"

The Rabbit sighed, exasperated.

"Y-your Highness, have you seen the Queen?"

"Down in the gardens, playing croquet," said the King, waving a hand dismissively as he turned back to the mirror before him, grumbling to himself, "Always her, never the KING..."

The Rabbit rolled his eyes, and left, running down the hall and then downstairs to the garden.

He gulped as he exited the relative safety of the Castle of Cards, adjusting his monocle before his pink right eye—which still matched the color of his left, he had noticed, gratefully, that morning—and then his tie. He pulled a large watch from his pocket. The Rabbit squeezed it, taking a deep breath, and then timidly made his way toward the croquet grounds.

The King may have "talked big," and certainly behaved in a manner "larger than life," but it was the Queen who held the true power. Born of a race creatures known as the Drahvins—human in appearance, save for a series of bright red bumps that covered their brows—the King was little more than a "toy" to her, useful simply for pleasure and reproduction. They had had ten children already, but all of them were dead—no thanks to their mother, who had ordered the immediate execution of each one. The reason was simple, as the Queen wanted a daughter to take her place and inherit the throne. All the infants had been sons.

And the Queen had only one solution to all things she saw as problems, great or small:

"OFF WITH HIS HEAD!"

The Rabbit winced and whimpered as the Queen's shriek echoed, followed by screams as some unfortunate courtier was dragged away by the guards. All of the court that had joined her for croquet matched completely: all were the same height and width betwixt each other, the men all dressed in red tuxedos, the women all dressed in black gowns, and every single one wearing a pink-feathered mask.

The Queen, herself, was quite imposing, dressed from head to toe in robes of striking scarlet, printed with black hearts and diamond shapes. Her tall-heeled shoes were ebony in color, and a black headdress, adorned with rubies and stitched with a golden thread, topped her red-haired head. Black petticoats were hidden under her robes, but her arms were totally bare, save for a pair of golden bracelets, one on each wrist. Her nails were long and sharp, her left hand's painted in blood red, the other hand glossed in deep black. Her face was pale and powdered, with bright red lipstick and golden earrings, a red spade painted on one cheek, a crimson club on the other.

And, though the Rabbit dared not even THINK of looking into them, her eyes were bright, bright red.—devilish and blazing like hell fire. Her thin black eyebrows arched over the flame that was her gaze, with red bumps indicatory of her species zig-zagging around them.

She was certainly wretched, yet, all at once, very beautiful to look at.

The Queen smirked at the sound of the doomed courtier's screams, and lowered her croquet mallet—the skeleton of a flamingo plasticized and bound with iron bands to keep it from falling to pieces, undoubtedly the gruesome source of the feathers on her subjects' masks—readying a bit towards her ball. The morbid object of her concentration was a long-dead hedgehog, still curled up in rigor mortis, and also plasticized, to prevent decay. The Queen licked her red lips in concentration.

The Rabbit whimpered, and clutched his watch tighter, trembling as he got closer.

"Uh...Your Majesty?" he peeped.

The Queen took no notice.

"Y-your Highness?"

No response.

"Your Excellency?" the Rabbit tried, a little louder, quickly losing patience, despite himself.

Still no response.

The Rabbit scowled.

"Your Royal _Pain..."_ he mumbled, under his breath.

The Rabbit froze, as the Queen glared at him, almost immediately dropping his gaze to the ground as her red eyes settled on him.

There was silence.

"Rabbit?" the Queen began, in a voice ever so soft and sweet.

_Too_ soft.

_Too _sweet.

"Y-yes, ma'am?"

"May I say something to you?"

STILL soft.

STILL sweet.

"Y-yes, ma'am."

The Queen leaned down, taking his chin in one hand, and forced his little head up to look at her.

As he always did when the need to look directly into her face arose, the Rabbit focused on the Queen's sharp nose.

"I'll tell you this only once," the Queen cooed, "If you weren't so indispensable, useful, and adorably fluffy as you are, my bunny..."

The Rabbit repressed a squeal as a sharp smack stung his cheek, feeling his heart almost beating out of his chest.

"I'D TAKE YOUR HEAD OFF MYSELF! UNDERSTOOD?!"

"Y-yes, Your Majesty. Th-thank you, Your Majesty..."

"Good boy," the Queen said, smiling kindly, as if nothing at all had happened, stroking Rabbit's ears.

He shuddered.

"Now, what is it?" the Queen asked, standing.

"W-well, you see, Your Majesty...s-some of the-"

"Hold that thought," the Queen interrupted, holding up a finger. "What time is it?"

The Rabbit blinked.

"Six o'clock," he answered.

The Queen narrowed her eyes.

"You didn't check."

"Well, no, but-"

"Make sure, Rabbit."

"B-but, it's _always...!"_

"MAKE SURE!"

Rabbit instantly snatched out his watch and hurriedly checked the time.

"Six o'clock, Your Majesty!" Rabbit said, eyes focused on the glass, half-panicking, "J-just like I said!"

The Queen giggled, reaching down and petting him once more.

Rabbit winced at her touch, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Sweet little baby bunny," she crooned, then stood erect and snapped her head around.

"KNAVE! TEATIME!"

The Knave of Hearts was a rotten little misfit, a dwarf with a slightly hunched back, dressed in a black tunic and red cloak. The loathsome creature was unshaven, his hair unkempt, his teeth yellow and crooked, with a lazy eye—both brown—looking for his Matriarch. His stunted appearance belayed a dangerous skill with the sword that was at his side. He served as both the Queen's butler, and as Captain of the Royal Guards.

He held up a tea tray, as the Queen took the cup, smiling genially.

"Thank you, Knave," she said in a sugary voice, nodding to him. "You're still… efficient."

The Knave smiled...not a pretty sight.

"Now, what were you saying, Rabbit?"

"I was j-just trying to tell Your Majesty that some of the g-g-guards-"

"Knave," the Queen suddenly snapped, "I take that 'efficient' bit out; this is much too sweet..."

She took another sip.

"...Or else not sweet enough. Either way, remind me to execute the Royal Tea Brewer."

The Knave nodded, not nearly stupid enough to remind the Queen that he, himself, was the Royal Tea Brewer. She had executed the original a month ago, and had never told him, nor anyone else, exactly how she liked her tea served.

"Your Majesty!" the Rabbit said, a little more snappishly than was usually safe. "The guards on patrol have found the blue box!"

The Queen choked and spluttered, spitting her tea all over one of her courtiers, who remained standing stock still, merely pulling out a white handkerchief and dabbing at his lapels.

"Your Majesty," the Knave rasped, "Are you all right?"

"WHO SAID YOU COULD SPEAK?!" the Queen shrieked, eyes wild and wide.

The Knave squirmed.

"N-nobody..."

"SHUT UP!"

The Knave fell silent at once.

There was a pause as the Queen panted for breath. Then, slowly, she turned to Rabbit, a smirk playing across her ruby lips.

"Rabbit?"

"Y-your Majesty?"

"Bring me my royal stationary."

"Yes, Your Majesty, but, may I ask-?"

"_Do it."_

Rabbit gulped.

"Y-yes, Your Majesty," he whispered, and bounded away as fast as his legs could carry him.

The Queen looked over at the Knave.

"Summon the sentries," she hissed. "Time has come back to the Madhouse."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV: Conjoined & Crazed**

"Come on Professor," Ace murmered. "Where are you?"

She'd been walking about a half hour; she began to think she'd been going in circles after taking a left turn earlier on, when she had come to a fork in the road.

At that fork, there had been a signpost, with three arrows. One had pointed to the right, and had read "Middle of Nowhere." The other two had pointed in the other direction; one read "To Tweedleskum's House," and the other read, "To the House of Tweedleskee."

_I guess they live in the same house._

She looked around. The sky hadn't changed this whole time; it was still the color of late afternoon, probably close to teatime, she figured.

Then again, she never had been one for "teatime."

"HALT, IN THE NAME OF THE GREAT SONTARAN EMPIRE!"

"Contrariwise, IN THE NAME OF THE GREAT SONTARAN EMPIRE, HALT!"

Ace stopped and turned to the source of the voices.

Her eyes widened.

A tall, bulky creature dressed in a padded leather uniform, marked with black-and-white stripes, was standing nearby. A wide, silver belt was strapped around its copious waist, with a holster on each side, each containing a sleek, black wand; a weapon presumably.

It appeared to actually be TWO figures, as Ace realized upon closer inspection—conjoined at the torso, right down the middle, so that it seemed to be one vast creature with two heads. Each of their heads were dome-shaped, with greenish-brown skin, so that, to Ace's eyes, their/its heads looked like half-baked, moldy potatoes. Their eyes were small and black, their ears pointed, their brows thick and hairless—as they were, in fact, completely bald—and their noses flat. Their heads were each topped with a black-&-white cap, and they scowled at Ace, beady eyes roaming up and down her body, as if they were examining her.

Ace stood still. The figure—figures—stood still.

Neither side spoke.

"If you think we're waxworks," said one head at last, in a deep growl, "You ought to pay, you know. Waxworks weren't made to be looked at for nothing, nohow!"

"Contrariwise," said the other head, in a voice that was exactly the same, no matter how hard Ace tried to discern it from the other, "If you think we're alive, you ought to speak."

"To start off with," the first snarled, "State your name, rank, and intention."

"Well...my name is Ace, I don't know my rank, and I'm trying to find a friend of mine. Have you seen him? He's about so high," Ace went on, holding up a hand to demonstrate, "With a white hat, and an umbrella..."

The heads each bit their lips, looked at each other, then turned back to Ace.

"Nohow."

"Contrariwise."

Another silence came over the scene.

"Um...you are?"

The figure stood a little straighter, each head raising its chin.

"I am Sergeant Tweedleskee," said the first head, "First Head of the First Sontaran Special Care Unit."

"And I," the second droned, "Am Sergeant Tweedleskum, Second Head of the First Sontaran Special Care Unit."

"First Unit? Is there another around here?"

The creatures ignored her, suddenly turning toward each other.

"Skum, you imbecile!" snapped Tweedleskee. "You just revealed your identity to the enemy!"

Ace took a step back, reaching for her baseball bat. She took notice as the arm on the right of the creature hovered its fingers over the wand-like weapon.

"Contrariwise," Tweedleskum countered, "You revealed your name to the Rutan swine first, Skee!"

"Rutan?" Ace inquired. "What's that?"

"Don't play dumb," snorted Skum. "You are, of course! No doubts about it, nohow!"

"Your disguise does not fool us! A Sontran is raised from birth to know his enemy upon the field of battle" Skee agreed, with a contemptuous sniff.

"Look, whatever these...Rutans are, I'm pretty sure I'm not one...I'm a human."

"A likely story," both heads said at once.

"Typical Rutan treachery, clumsily trying to cover up its true identity," sneered Skum.

"Rutan scum, surely you are aware you are the most hated enemies of the Great Sontaran Empire," snarled Skee.

"Able to take the shape of any living being, of any size, of any stature!"

"Annihilate them!"

"Obliterate them!"

The gruesome pair then, simultaneously, shouted, "For the glory of Sontar!"

And with that, each side whipped out their weapons.

Ace took out her bat instantly, holding it up in one hand, the other hand heading for her Nitro-9—a special explosive the weaponry-savvy young woman had mixed up herself.

"It is futile to resist your total destruction!" smirked Skee.

"Prepare to meet your utter demise!"

"Hold it, hold it!" Ace said, not sure how she could fare against the Siamese twin alien. "You say these Rutans can take on ANY form?"

"Particularly dense, aren't you?" scoffed Skee.

"Indeed!" agreed Skum. "Contrariwise, any Rutan knows that a Rutan can take any form!"

"Then I can't be a Rutan, can I?"

"Don't try to weasel out of it!" snapped Skum, as the two stepped forward, raising their weapons a bit higher. Ace took a step back, in response. "Confess to your deception before we rid of your pestilence from our land!"

"Contrariwise, Rutans are very capable at shapeshifting! Why, they might even be able to take the form of proud Sontaran warrior, if they so desired."

Both sides shuddered.

Ace got an idea.

"Is that so?" she began, cautiously. "Well, then, perhaps one of you two...heads, is a Rutan in disguise?"

Both sides gasped, and the guns lowered immediately.

"Don't be absurd!" Skee said, horrified. "What a preposterous notion!"

"She has a point, though," whispered Skum.

Skee gaped at his other side.

"Brother, have you taken leave of your senses?! We are of the same clone batch!"

"That's why we're here, I know; the machine failed to separate our two parts adequately."

"A one in six-billion factory error," sighed the first.

"We were marked with the shameful stigma of 'tweedle-' a profane and vulgar insult in the Sontaran tongue."

"And so, as 'failures,' we were fated to choose exile or execution."

"We chose exile, and were eventually captured and brought here for our 'imperfection.'"

"Don't you see, brother? We cannot be Rutans! Neither of us, nohow!"

"Aha!" snapped Skum. "Exactly what a Rutan spy would say! And you DARE to claim this hideous creature to be one of your own," he sneered, gesturing towards Ace, "When the real foe has been in front of me this whole time!"

"Aha!" snarled Skee. "Your stratagem has failed! Only a Rutan would make such an accusation, having the audacity to besmirch the name of a valiant Sontaran warrior. And only a Rutan would be so foolish as to make such a fatal mistake as revealing their identity through a botched bluff!"

Ace began to tip toe away, keeping her bat at the ready, just in case...

"A _BLUFF?!"_ roared Skum, and pointed his weapon at his other head. "I'll show you bluffing! I shall kill you, in the name of the Great Sontaran Empire!"

"Not before I incinerate _you_ on the spot!" growled Skee.

"Ha! I'd like to see a Rutan like you-"

_**"KEAW!"**_

All three looked up, as an eagle-like call—only three times louder—echoed overhead.

Ace stared. Above her flew an immense, black beast, with an upper half like an eagle's—save for the cat-like ears—and a lower half like a lion's, completely covered in black fur or feathers. Its golden eyes and yellowed beak were wide open, as it let out another cry. Its front talons, which glinted like blades, splayed apart as it swooped down.

_A gryphon! But...they're not even real!_

_...Are they?_

"An aerial assault!" shouted Skee.

"Take cover!" yelled Skum.

The large Siamese-Sontaran dropped, and Ace dove for cover behind a tree.

The Gryphon swooped in, just missing all three—two?—and flew away, letting out a third and final caw.

Tweedleskee and Tweedleskum rose, their vast, conjoined form shaking slightly.

"That was a close encounter! But, we live to dief another day!"

"Where were we, anyway?"

"You were accusing each other of being something called Rutans," Ace put in, stepping out cautiously, still holding her baseball bat in one hand.

"Oh-ho!" chortled Skee, and lifted his wand...pointing it at her. "So, you tried to turn my brother and I against each other! I must confess, you aren't nearly as stupid as we expected!"

"But it will avail you not," Skum said, smiling coldly. "I say we incinerate her, here and now!"

Ace gulped, eyes darting about, trying to reach for a Nitro-9 canister without turning her back.

"Contrariwise, I shall blast her, and claim the honor of ceasing her continued existence!"

_"You _shall have the honor?!" Skum rapped, turning at once. "She is MY kill!"

"Oh, indeed?! I saw her first!"

"Really, brother? Well, whose idea was it to blow her to bits?"

"Mine."

"No, it wasn't, it was mine!"

"MINE!"

_"MINE!"_

"Er...excuse me," Ace said softly, edging away from the scene slowly. "I'll just be...moving along."

"Oh, yes, don't worry," Skee said, generously, not turning towards her. "Just toddle off, little one."

"Yes, I'll brutally murder you later," Skum agreed.

"No, I will!"

"NO, I WILL!"

"Me!"

"Me!"

_**"ME!"**_ both shrieked, as Ace ran off leaving the homicidal twins to bicker on their own.

"Well," she said, stopping for breath, "That was...odd. Clearly they aren't the brightest bulbs in the box...now, where is the Professor...?"

And, without another thought on the matter, she continued on her way, the argument behind her still echoing through the trees.

_"You let her get away!"_

_ "No, I didn't!"_

_ "Yes, you did!"_

_ "DIDN'T!"_

_ "DID!"_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V: Stagnant Tea**

_Bored._

_ Bored, bored, bored, bored...bored._

_ ...BOOORRRRED._

That was the only thing to run through the Mad Hatter's scrambled mind as he stared into a cup of cooled tea. His left eye was coloured a magnificent blue, the other a dull green the blue, as his gaze stood fixed upon the cup. True to his namesake, he wore a top hat on his red-haired head slumping slightly forward. A dark blue ribbon hatband was wrapped around its crown, a scorched and yellowed price tag reading "In this style, 10/6" stuck in it.

He sighed, dismally, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the sky. His arms crossed over his chest, as his black gloves clenched around the red sleeves of his waistcoat. Everything else he wore was as black as his gloves: his vest, his shirt, his bow tie, his shoes, his trousers, etcetera, etcetera. Only his hat and waistcoat defied this monochromatic rule.

He lazily looked across the table, frowning as he watched the March Hare stir his own tea with a finger, looking equally bored. The Hare resembled a human in every way, save for his head, which was definitely lapin. He had removed one of his gloves to stir the cup, and held it in his other hand; he was dressed in a suit of chocolate brown, with golden lining, and wore a straw boater's hat, with a black ribbon band, on his head, his ears sticking up on either side of it, a pair of spectacles leaning on his nose/snout, pink eyes peering slightly over them as he sighed.

The Hatter's gaze moved towards the Dormouse; she never, ever spoke a word, or made a sound of any kind. She was draped in ancient-looking, black, Oriental-style robes and ribbons. Her face was forever hidden by a thick black veil, her hands forever concealed, and her feet covered by black slippers. The only signs of the creature beneath were a pair of decidedly rodent ears that stuck out on either side of the veil, and a long, wormy tail that peeked out from beneath her cloak. She sat in total silence, meditating, occasionally taking a sip from her teacup—to do this, she would bring her cup behind her veil, rather than lift the veil itself. But otherwise, she sat there, completely silent, completely still.

Never moving...

Never speaking...

Never _changing..._

The thought made his temper flare, and he growled.

Hoping to calm himself, he took his watch from his pocket.

He sneered.

Six o'clock.

Always six o'clock.

_Always._

The March Hare jumped as the Mad Hatter suddenly let out a scream, and smashed his teacup onto the table, spilling cold tea everywhere.

"ALWAYS!" the Hatter roared. "Strict, ordered, patterned...constant! DAMN and BLAST it, _ALWAYS!"_

Having finished his short tirade, the Hatter remained standing, panting for breath, hands twitching, for a few moments. After a moment, he settled back into his seat, slumping as he ran a gloved hand over his face.

"Always," he said again. "I need something _new..._I need it, need it, NEED it..."

The Hare smiled nervously; he had grown used to the Hatter's outbursts by now, but he simply hadn't been expecting this one.

As for the Dormouse, she had not reacted at all.

Hatter glared.

_Nothing new THERE..._

"Perhaps a different flavor of tea would cheer you up?" the Hare suggested, sucking the tea off his hand, and replacing his glove.

It was a sign of sheer desperation that the Hatter smiled at the notion.

"Maybe. Any kind we haven't tried as of late?"

"Hmm...pomegranate?"

"Last week."

"Peppermint?"

"Week before that."

"Vanilla, then?"

Hatter scowled.

Hare giggled, sheepishly, rubbing a humanoid hand over his furry neck.

"So sorry...that's what we're having right now, isn't it?"

Hatter nodded, silently.

"Well, all right, what would you like?"

"Let me think...we ran out of chocolate already, didn't we?"

"Two months ago...or maybe two years. All I remember, really, is that it was precisely six o'clock when we ran out."

"Huh. Pity. I believe I'll have Jasmine, then."

The Hare nodded, and pulled – as if out of nowhere – a box of teabags. He unceremoniously dumped the cold vanilla tea onto the ground. The Hare then ran over to a hot water fountain that had been installed in the yard of he and the Hatter's home, and began to fill it up.

Hatter sighed and turned towards the Dormouse.

"Nothing new really ever happens here, Dormouse," he whined, petulantly. "How I long for something different?"

He paused, and grinned.

"Soon, I'll have it," he hissed. "After all: 'the only thing that stays the same is that everything changes.' Right?"

The Dormouse made no reply.

Hater chuckled.

"That's what I like about you, Dorma," he smiled. "You're an exquisite conversationalist!"

Just as the March Hare returned to the table and put the tea bags in for the new pot, all three – yes, even the Dormouse – turned at the sound of a knock at the gate.

"Er...ahem!"

The March Hare glared.

The Hatter tilted his head, curious.

"Oh. It's you," March said, flatly. "Were you invited?"

"Well..." the White Rabbit began, squeezing his pocket watch hard.

"I thought not," Hare interrupted, tossing his head contemptuously and waving a hand around. "Now, begone! There is simply no room at all for another floppy-eared compatriot at this tea table!"

The Hatter clucked his tongue.

"Marchy, behave yourself!" he scolded, jabbing a finger at the March Hare. "Mr. Rabbit is welcome anytime!"

He smiled at the Rabbit, who flinched at the lurid light in the Hatter's mismatched eyes.

"My sincerest apologies for Marchy...his manners are deplorable. Please, come right in! Have a seat, take a drink!"

The Rabbit gulped, and timidly entered the yard, still holding his pocket watch in a death grip.

"Th-thank you kindly, Lord Hatter..."

The March Hare stuck his tongue out at the White Rabbit, then subsided at the Hatter's stern glare.

"...But I c-cannot stay. I'm...in a hurry, I fear, but-"

"Oh, too bad!" Hare said brightly, clapping his hands together. "Well, we all know what they say: no time to say goodbye, hello! Be on your way, itty bitty bunny boy! Shoo! So long!"

"Marchy, that's quite enough!"

The Hare subsided.

Hatter rolled his eyes and turned back to the Rabbit.

"You were saying, sir?" he pressed.

"I...I have a message for you, from the Qu-Queen herself."

The Mad Hatter rose in his chair, eyes wide, smile wider.

"How interesting."

_And NEW..._

"Please," he went on, "Bring it to me!"

The Rabbit nodded, methodically procuring a pink handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket, placing it over his paw, and plucking out an enveloped letter—with red paper and a black wax seal—from his other pocket. He then hopped over to the Hatter, who was rubbing his gloved hands together expectantly, and handed it over gingerly. The Hare flinched when the haberdasher snatched it away eagerly, and quickly opened it, using a tea spoon as a letter opener.

The Rabbit watched him carefully as the Hatter placed the envelope onto his own hat brim, unfolded the letter, and began to read.

The Hatter's smile grew as he scanned the letter. At first, it was innocent enough. Then, it changed into a smirk, and his eyes, still wide and excited, began to burn with a certain light the Rabbit wasn't sure he liked.

He felt his heartbeat quicken as the Hatter folded the letter back up and carefully placed it back into the envelope.

"Please, tell the Queen she is welcome," Hatter said, calmly.

"Right," the White Rabbit said with a nod.

A pause.

"...F-for what?"

"For the special brew of tea I sent her, of course!" Hatter laughed.

"Oh! Y-y-y-y-yes!" Rabbit stuttered, adjusting his tie nervously, and replacing his watch. "I will!"

"Very good. Now, off with you, little bunny!" giggled the Hatter crazily. "Don't want you to lose your head, do we?"

That was all it took.

The White Rabbit was gone in a flash.

The March Hare glared after him.

"Do you know something, Dorma?" Hatter addressed the Dormouse, leaning back in his chair, placing his feet onto the table. "Things are about to change around here."

The Dormouse turned her head towards the Hatter, and, without saying a word, took a drink.

"How so, Hatter?" the March Hare asked, cutting himself a slice of bread.

The Hatter smiled, and plucked up a sugar cube, inspecting it coolly.

"Do you know what that letter from the Queen of Hearts said?" he almost sang.

The Hare raised an eyebrow.

"Don't keep me in suspense, my friend," he said after a moment.

Hatter laughed loudly.

"No, really! Go ahead and guess!" he said, popping the sugar cube into his mouth.

The Hare was quiet for a while, thinking.

"Uh...I'm going to say something along the lines of, 'thanks for the tea, and you may live another day'?"

"Well...yes, THAT. But do you know what else?"

"What?"

Hatter's smirk returned.

"Time is on his way."

The March Hare's eyes widened. His lips turned up in a similar smirk.

"Perfect."

"Indeed it is, my dear Marchy. The Day of the Jabberwocky is drawing near..."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter VI: History Lesson**

Ace swallowed thickly; the hike was taking its toll. She'd been walking a long, long time by now, and not one sign of the Doctor.

She'd lost the initial path, and instead began walking in the general direction the Gryphon from earlier had flown off. It seemed as good a road as any. On her route, she had left the forest, and soon found herself on a strange beach. The sand lined a sea of red liquid, similar to water, aside from its coloration, with harsh waves crashing and splashing against the shore.

She looked out into the horizon, seeing nothing but the golden-violet sky; the afternoon had not shifted at all.

She bit her lip, and adjusted her backpack strap as it was beginning to chafe her shoulder.

"What kind of place is this?"

_"Ohh..."_

The sound of a deep, bass moan caught Ace's ear. She turned, trying to find the source of the sound.

Soon, she spotted a dune, littered with broken boats, shells, and rocks. At the very top of the dune, she saw a figure seated on a rock. Curious, Ace drew nearer, hoping the creature could help her.

It was a strange beast: its body resembled a sea turtle, like the ones back on Earth, with an emerald green shell and scales, but with a head that more closely resembled a bull, with straight, metallic-looking horns that seemed to be made of bronze. It had bright red, pupil-less eyes, a flattened snout with thin hair, and black, coarse skin. It had a small mouth, which had humanoid teeth, including incisors and canines alongside heavy, thick molars. The creature was sobbing profusely, with large, fat, wet tears streaming from its red eyes.

As Ace drew closer, she saw a huge, black mass of feathers, peaked like a model mountain or conifer tree, set upon an overturned rowboat before it.

Ace was about two feet away when she jumped, nearly falling over and down the side of the dune, as the feathers seemed to blow apart. A pair of wings snapped open to reveal the mythical beast.

"For the love of the Queen," hissed the Gryphon, "Shut UP!"

The turtle-bull sniffled and glared at the Gryphon.

"YOU shut up!" it growled. "Y-you don't know what I am capable of!"

"HA! Don't try an' scare me off, ye stupid Mock Turtle!" the Gryphon snarled, and smacked the creature on the snout, causing it to cough and hiccup, then let out a short growl.

"Oi!" Ace called out. "Why'd you hit him?"

The Gryphon turned towards her, glaring.

"What else is 'e good for?" it groused, acting as if Ace had been there the whole time.

Its companion glared at the Gryphon, and let out another sob.

Ace frowned, concerned.

"What's his problem, anyway?"

The Gryphon rolled his eyes.

"It's all his fancy, that: he hasn't got no sorrow, y'know."

"No sorrow, indeed!" grumbled the other, wiping its flippers across its face and scowling. "Mine are the sorrows of a sorrowful sorrow! Mine are the woes of a woeful woe! Mine are the-"

"Aw, quit yer senseless whining!"

"You're a fine one to complain, aren't you?" Ace snapped. "Why don't you go on and pick on somebody your own size?"

The Gryphon scoffed.

"I hope ye don't mean yerself, ye distasteful runt?"

"Leave...leave her be!"

"What did I tell ye?!" the Gryphon screeched, gesturing at the bull-turtle, but talking to Ace, then turned to its partner. "Ye keep yer mouth shut, ye bloody Mock Turtle! I wouldn't dirty my beak on such a tiny morsel, anyway."

Then it turned back to Ace, eyeing her suspiciously.

"And what d'ye want, anyway?"

"I was hoping one of you could tell me if you'd seen a friend of mine. Carries an umbrella, wears a hat and a safari outfit, covered in question marks, can't miss hi-"

"Haven't seen him," the Gryphon said, a little too fast.

"Me…me neither," the other creature said, hiccupping as it finished its sentence.

"Now, get lost," the Gryphon said coldly. The agitated beast proceeded to wrap its wings around itself again.

Ace ignored the Gryphon, and turned to the other creature.

"Pardon my askin', but _what_ are you, anyway?" she asked.

The Gryphon broke in before the other monstrosity had the time to speak.

"'e's the Mock Turtle!" it said.

Ace raised an eyebrow.

"You've said that," she said, simply. "What's it mean, though?"

"Well, you see," the Gryphon said, and it would have smiled if its beak had lips, "'e comes of a race of conquerors that cherry picks the best traits of other species! Evolution at its finest...though this one seems to be on the wrong end of the evolutionary spectrum! When 'e arrived, 'e 'ad the 'ead of a Nimon and the body of a bloody turtle! Just look at 'im! 'e's practically what Mock Turtle soup is made of!"

The Gryphon laughed, as the Mock Turtle grabbed a small rock and flung it at him, missing by a mile.

"SILENCE!" it cried—in more ways than one—which only caused the Gryphon to laugh even harder.

_Some friend he is,_ Ace thought darkly. Ace then turned to the Mock Turtle.

"So, that's why you're sad, then?"

The Turtle gulped back a sob, and nodded, red eyes doleful and glistening with tears.

"Once...once, I was a full, real turtle...I was from the planet Lumineous 4, the same planet the White Rabbit comes from, filled with several animals similar to those found on the planet Sol 3, but they all act like humans on your planet...you ARE from Sol 3, yes?"

"You mean, 'Earth?'"

"Yes…yes that's what you call it. Earth…"

"Well...yes, but, who is the White-?"

"When...when I was little," the Turtle went on, talking over her, "I went to school in the sea. The Headmaster was an old turtle; w-we used to call him 'Tortoise,'" he added, quietly.

"Why did you call him Tortoise, if he wasn't one?"

The Turtle smiled, wryly.

"We called him Tortoise because he 'taught us,'" he chortled. "Silly girl!"

"Ought to be ashamed of yerself," the Gryphon mumbled, muffled by its feathers, as it had curled up again. "Asking a simple question like that..."

Ace and the Mock Turtle ignored the Gryphon.

"For how long did you do lessons?" Ace asked, and sat down on a nearby rock.

"Ten hours the first, nine the next, then eight, and so on and so forth..."

"That's a funny plan..."

"'ardly!" snapped the Gryphon, peeking out with one amber eye. "That's the reason they're called _lessons,_ you stupid 'ussy: because they _lessen_ from day to day!"

Ace growled.

"If you don't shut that gawking beak of yours, I'll shut it for you," she snapped.

The Gryphon hissed quietly, and closed its eyes again.

"You were saying?" Ace pressed.

"What? Oh, yes! Ahem...well, th-the eleventh day, naturally, was a holiday..."

"And what did you do on the twelfth day?"

The Mock Turtle was silent for a moment, deep in thought, then shook its head, letting out a low groan.

_"Ohh_...I can't remember! I only took...took the regular course, you know..."

"What was that?"

"Reeling and writhing, of course, to begin with...then all the different branches of arithmetic: ambition, distraction, uglification, derision..."

"Uglification?"

"Ye ought to know what _that_ is," came the Gryphon's voice, sneeringly, "Ye look like ye've practiced it."

Then it fell silent.

Ace glared at it, releasing the grip on her baseball bat.

"So, what else did you learn?"

"Mystery," the Mock Turtle said, smiling. The sorrowful creature was clearly glad to have someone to talk to about its life that wouldn't promptly whack it over the horns. "Both...both ancient and modern. My favorite course was seaography."

"But there's still one thing I don't understand. HE..."

Here, Ace indicated the Gryphon with a flick of her arm.

"...Said you were also something called a 'Nimon.' What was that like?"

The Mock Turtle began to cry anew, even harder than before.

"I...I WAS a Nimon, yes! S-some scholars, I think, called us minotaurs, a misnomer, really, as Minotaurs are nothing like Nimons..."

"Really?" Ace asked, eyes widened slightly. "Is that where you got your...er..."

"Head? Yes. Yes, it was. I...I was considered a God," it went on, eyes looking blank, blazing like red torches as it remembered the grandness of its glory days, holding its head higher. "My mortal subjects would come to me...pray to me and worship me and my fellow Nimons..."

Ace felt a pang of sympathy, thinking how it must feel to be on top of the world, essentially, and then be dragged down to a punching bag for the bad-tempered Gryphon...

"I...I would feast upon them..."

Her brain did a double-take, and suddenly all the sympathy struck out, as if by lightning.

"Say again?"

"I said I would feed on them...they brought me sacrifices," he repeated, "And soon we would feed on whole of the population, reaping the bounty of the land. And…and then once there was nothing more for us to feed upon, we would move on to the next world to satiate our vast hunger. Such is the Great Journey of Life."

"A nasty lot of parasites those Nimons," exclaimed the Gryphon, "the scourge of the universe if ye ask me."

"Yes…yes. 'Parasites', they called us, but we…we were no worse than the savages we fed upon," said the amalgamation, defensively.

"Ye blatantly feast on Level 5 planets," argued the Gryphon, "a direct violation of inter-galactic law, ye know. And ye see yerself as any different?" Ace was surprised to find herself in agreement with the ill-tempered monster.

"Yes," shouted the Mock Turtle in a deep, rumbling voice, "We saw ourselves as cleansers…cleansers wiping away the filthy degenerates of the universe. We only partook of the leftovers of interplanetary evolution, barbaric creatures vying for power of their so-called civilizations."

Ace stood horrified by this creature's testimony. The Mock Turtle continued, "But we fed, nonetheless, and left each dish—as it were—spotless. No…no, not one spec of life would be found once our feast ended. And thus, the Journey would begin anew." The corners of its mouth grew wide with a sickening smile Ace did not like plastered on his face. It eyes deadly and sharp.

All the young woman could say was, "Blimey."

"Yes, that was the age of conquest" the Mock Turtle murmered, then closed its eyes, smile fading as it began to weep again. _"OHH...woe is me...! And…And then I remember the times when I was amongst those proud conquerors-"_

The Gryphon groaned loudly, unfurling its wings, standing on its hind legs, and clutching its talons tightly into fists.

"Lay off that, will ye?! Yer like a broken record! I want to sleep!"

The Turtle glared the Gryphon.

It smirked—or at least looked like it wanted to—and then wrapped itself up again.

The Mock Turtle brought in a shuddering breath, and turned to Ace.

"Will you...won't you...worship me?" it whispered.

Ace blinked.

"Why?" she asked, not entirely sure how to respond.

"So you could relinquish your life to keep mine sustained," the Mock Turtle said, matter-of-factly.

Instantly, Ace was on her feet, bat in hand.

"Sorry, but 'no,'" was the frank response.

The Turtle sniffled, and rose...

"V-very well. You leave me no choice..."

The young woman tightened her grip, reaching slowly behind her back for some Nitro-9.

"...No choice, but to adhere to your request."

She relaxed.

Just a little.

"Besides," the Turtle sniffled, sitting again, and talking to itself more than Ace, "Who would...who could..."

It broke down, shaking as it began to bawl.

The Gryphon shrieked.

"SHUT UP!" it screamed. The Gryphon then turned to Ace, shouting, "AND THAT GOES FOR YE, TOO!"

"Right," Ace said, hastily, backing away cautiously, keeping her bat in hand. "Well...if you see my friend, just...tell him I'm looking for him. And...uh, don't worry! Things will turn out all right in the end!"

Then, she sprinted back down the dune and into the woods.

"Thank you!" the Turtle called after her.

"She wasn't talking to ye!" the Gryphon's snarky voice echoed behind her. "She was talking to me; I'M the one that's got to guard ye, and listen to ye all day, ye...say, where'd she go?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter VII: Something Wicked...**

The White Rabbit adjusted his monocle, taking a deep breath as he arrived at the balcony where the King and Knave of Hearts stood.

"Um...e-excuse m-m-me?"

Both turned.

"Oh," said the King dully. "It's you. The missus should be around soon, had an execution to tend to first."

"I s-see," said the Rabbit, simply, as he hopped closer, standing between the two. He stood up on his tip toes, holding onto the balcony railing with his forepaws, shuddering.

Below them, a small troupe of tall, lithe-looking figures stood at attention. Each of them was humanoid in shape and made of a curious metal that spread across their bodies from head to toe, not unlike cloth. Their heads had no faces, ears, hair, or any sign that could indicate any form of emotion. Although it seemed very unlikely they could feel at all, as they all possessed one noteworthy blemish upon their statuesque forms: a significant head trauma, revealing wires and gears. They were composed of several mechanical marvels in place of organs, with sensors and computers for brains. Their wrists jutted out, with a small hole in their "sleeves," from which they would fire their weapons. Their hands had their fingers fused, save for the thumb, but this hardly hindered any movement. They gazed up, without eyes, at the balcony, awaiting orders from their Queen.

On their front side, they were painted with crude playing card symbols, with a bold letter "A" marking their backside.

"Have I ever mentioned how I detest those...those HORRID things?"

"Those 'horrid things,'" the Knave cut in, coldly, "Are the Royal Card Guards; Aces, to be precise, the most advanced models we have. They're some of the finest weapons in the galaxy, able to move much faster than your little bunny-legs can . THEY are never _LATE."_

The Rabbit winced.

"F-forgive me, Sir Knave."

The Knave sniffed haughtily, but said nothing.

"Wouldn't want to be on the business end of one of them," the King muttered.

"They are programmed, sire," the Knave said calmly, not looking at him, "Primarily for security purposes. Though, of course, Her Majesty has used them for...other purposes. They have been modified to obey any order she, or I, give."

"We reiterate: we wouldn't want to be on the business end of one of them."

"Hmph," the Knave snorted, and then mumbled, under his breath, "Just be glad you are still around..."

"Just what are you insinuating?" the King snapped, head held high.

"Nothing," the Knave dismissed coolly. "Simply...admiring your status, so to speak, Your Majesty."

The King smiled proudly.

"Yes, well...we are quite magnificent, aren't we?" he said, giggling childishly and swirling his cape.

The Knave and the Rabbit both resisted the urge to smack their faces with their palms.

"Ah-heh-hem!"

All three moved away as the Queen strode onto the balcony. She grinned down at her Guards, teeth showing fiercely.

"My beloved Cards!" she cried down. "My loyal Aces! I, your lovely and compassionate Queen, have an announcement, and a command! The announcement is this: Time, as you may know has returned to our precious land! The Day of the Jabberwocky draws ever closer! And, even more importantly, I have been given the most wonderful shoes, courtesy of the Carpenter! I admit they are fashioned rather poorly, but you know what they say, it is the thought that counts!"

She paused impressively.

"End of announcement. Here is your command: you and your commander, my trusted Knave..."

The stunted Knave stood as straight as he could in respect.

"...Are to locate Time and his 'Looking-Glass' machine. Secure the contraption...and give our new subjects a proper, wonderful welcome. Ensure that Time does not slip away from us; 'Time,' as they say, 'is of the essence!'"

The Cards saluted.

The Queen smirked.

"Gather your weapons, and await your leader at the gates!"

The Cards fell at ease and suddenly seemed to vanish from sight.

"Faster than lightning," the Rabbit whispered, fiddling with his tie.

"Knave," the Queen said, turning to her lackey, "Go into the Tulgey Woods. We must have Time here before brillig; do NOT let him slip away. Am I clear?"

"On my head, Your Majesty," the Knave said, smiling and bowing.

The Queen began to exit, glancing at the King as she left.

"You shall assist the Knave in any way he orders you," she said, dismissively.

The King gaped, as if in horror.

"But, dear!" he called out in protest. "We are the KING! Why is it that we should be saddled with such peons as-"

He stopped short, as a hand wrapped around his throat, and two red eyes burned into his own.

"YOU SPEAK AGAIN, AND I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD ON A PIKE!" the Queen shouted into his face, covering the "King" in spittle. "It's better you do SOMETHING around here, you WORTHLESS, STUPID _MALE,_ instead of fooling around in your bloody ROOM, playing with your bloody CAPE, _**AND NOT GIVING ME PROPER CHILDREN TO-!"**_

__The Queen suddenly stopped, removing her hand and tilting her head, concerned.

"Darling...you are perspiring profusely. Are you sure you're well?" she asked, quietly.

"Y-yes, love. We are well," the King assured her quickly, nodding fast, standing stock still.

The Queen smiled oh-so-sweetly.

"Well it's just you look so pale," she crooned, patting his cheek, "like a ghost, my dearie. But, you don't look too bad off, so if you could be so sweet as to help the Knave? There's a good boy." The Queen turned back around, and vanished.

There was a moment of silence...

"RABBIT!"

The Rabbit gulped, and bounded out of the room.

"Coming, Your Majesty!" he called.

The Knave and the King both sighed with relief, and shared a glance.

"Knave, tell us," the King implored, half-whispering. "Which is worse: our beloved's wrath, or an Ace of Spades?"

The Knave gave no reply.

The question seemed to answer itself, he figured.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter VIII: Death Grin**

Ace gazed around cautiously, shivering slightly. Her jacket had long since dried, but the previous dampness had nonetheless chilled her. She had entered a part of the forest even darker than the rest. The tree branches were sprawling and unkempt, all set in a strange sort of circle. The leaves were a different color—a pale lavender, rather than denim blue—and the bark on them was blackened, as if they had been burned. Strange whispers and the chattering of birds filled her ears, as small creatures make noise around her.

"Curiouser and curiouser," Ace murmered to herself.

Just then, a faint THUD caught her attention, and she turned around.

Ace noticed the sounds of the woods had suddenly gone silent.

She looked around and spotted a little wooden box lying in a small pile of dead leaves. The box was barely bigger than her fist, intricately engraved with images of roses, painted with black petals and dark, thorny stems. It was shut by a simple latch, with no lock.

Curiosity enticed, Ace approached the little box, and picked it up, opening it gently.

Inside, there was a small sugar cookie, shaped like a star, with chocolate frosting. Vanilla icing on top of the confection decoratively spelled the words "Eat Me."

_At this point, that sounds like puttin' a sign on my back,_ Ace thought snidely, recalling her encounter with the Mock Turtle a few minutes earlier.

She looked around, scanning the area.

"Anyone there?" she called. "Hello?"

No one replied.

Ace bit her lip as she took the little cookie out of the box, holding it up, as if to inspect it.

She put the box back down. Then, as she stood back up, something snatched at her from behind. Before she could properly react, it, whatever 'it' was, had grabbed her arm, and forcefully shoved the cookie into her mouth.

Ace bit down on the creature's hand, which immediately retracted. She swiftly grabbed her bat, spinning around.

There was nobody there.

Her heart was beating fast as she stood in the empty circle, confused. Ace then began to wipe the crumbs away, spitting bits of the pastry onto the ground. She continued to whip about, holding the baseball bat defensively.

Then, after a moment, she felt a peculiar, tickling feeling in her chest and her limbs.

She froze.

_Too late._

Then she looked at the ground. Was it getting wider? Closer?

She looked up. The trees, were they getting taller?

Ace quickly realized what was going on: the world wasn't GROWING..._she_ was _SHRINKING!_

In next to no time at all, she found herself three inches tall. She noticed, gratefully, that her backpack and clothes had shrunk with her. She found some solace in the notion that at least she wasn't going to be caught indecent as well as the size of a mouse.

The first thought to enter her head, perhaps surprisingly, was, _The Doctor will want to see this..._

The second, _That is, when I find him..._

And, as you might have guessed, the third was, _Oh, God...how CAN I find him at THIS size? How am I going to get big again?_

Just as she was looking around, hoping to find a way—wondering perhaps if next a pink muffin in a laundry basket would fall out of nowhere—she heard a low, deep growl from behind her.

Slowly and cautiously, Ace turned.

She gulped.

A few feet away, crouched low into a pouncing position was a titanic-sized tiger, with its muscles bulging and bunched beneath its silky purple fur—rather than orange, although its stripes remained black.

Stranger still, the big cat seemed to be _smiling._

The tiger growled again, with its yellow eyes glowing in the dark as its wide grin revealed two rows of deadly, white fangs. Sharp, black claws jutted from its paws, digging slightly into the dirt. Its long tail flashed about behind it, like a whip, as it prepared to pounce on its prey.

To top off how surreal it all was—standing in front of a smiling purple tiger after being force-fed a cookie and shrinking down to the size of a rodent—the big cat actually SPOKE to Ace.

"My, my, my," it purred, "What a tender morsel you are..."

Ace blinked.

"You...you can talk, too?"

The cat let out a chuckle, licking its lips with a thick, pink tongue.

"How sweet," it crooned. "Here I am, about ready to devour you, and all you can think of is the fact that I can talk. I'm not a monster you know..."

It crouched lower. Ace instinctively took a step back.

"In fact," the tiger went on, grinning a bit wider, "I think I'll give you a sporting chance! I'm mad about races, you know! How does a five second head start sound to you?"

Ace glared and groaned at once.

"Really?! First a bloody...turtle-cow-thing...and now _this?!"_

The tiger smirked, tilting its head, ears perked up.

"Beg pardon? Oh, I'm so sorry...you're so delectably small now, I can barely make out your voice. Not that you'll need it soon...but, enough of that. I'm hungry. Feel free to scream, if you care to. Ready?"

Ace said nothing.

"I don't care!" the tiger laughed, and closed its eyes. "Now: one...two..."

Ace wasted no time, she reached into her backpack, grabbed a can of Nitro-9...

"Three...four..."

Pulled the trigger on the canister...

"FIVE!"

And flung it into the air with all her might.

As the tiger opened its eyes, its vision was immediately consumed with a blinding flash of light. It roared, rubbing a paw against them in pain.

Meanwhile, Ace darted behind a tree. At its size, the miniature explosive could only stall the creature. She had to figure a way out of here...

"Ohh...you're a NASTY little pest," she heard the tiger hiss. "Do you REALLY think you have any sort of chance at survival? The odds are all in my favor...everything's odd around these parts..."

Ace pulled out her bat. She frowned, knowing that bashing the tiger's brains out probably wasn't very likely to happen at her current size.

Then she froze, as she heard the tiger take a deep, sniffing breath.

It purred.

"Ah...I knew you couldn't have gone favor. Show yourself, and I may spare you some of the pain you SO deserve..."

Ace didn't move, but only continued to try and figure out an escape path; if she ran out into the open, the tiger could outrun her. If she stayed put, it would sniff her out. Was there any way to get past it without it spotting her?

She looked around the tree trunk.

And right into the cat's eyes.

"Peek-a-boo! I see you!" it sang out.

Ace swung the bat, only to have it easily knocked away.

"Cute," the tiger purred quietly.

Before Ace could move, she let out a winded gasp as something very soft, but very, very strong, slammed into her. This immense force pinned her to the ground, almost crushing her.

She was under its paw.

She took a deep, thankful breath as the paw lifted. Two claws snagged her shirt collar from beneath her jacket, lifting her gently into the air. She looked down...

The view of the ground was overwhelmed by a mass of purple-and-black fur, and a pair of golden, venomous eyes.

"You just had to make me upset, didn't you?" it cooed, not sounding upset at all. "Well, I just hope you taste as good as you smell my pretty little snack. Farewell!"

Then, the tiger closed its eyes as its jaws opened below her. Its teeth were like the gates to a dark abyss. Its tongue spread out like a welcome mat into oblivion. Its hot breath washed over her.

Then a mortifying thought struck her: at her present size, the big cat wouldn't even need to chew.

She was about to be swallowed whole.

She struggled to break free, wriggling and writhing, as her hands tried to grab at the claws over her head.

"DOCTOR!" she screamed.

The cat chuckled below her, slowly beginning to lower her into its maw.

Just then, a loud, shrill whistle pierced the air. The tiger's ears flicked, closing its mouth as it turned its head to find the source.

Ace also turned around, letting out a sigh of relief.

_Doctor!_

It _was_ the Doctor. He was bent down on one knee, with one hand clutching his umbrella, and the other held out placatingly. His eyes were fixed on the purple tiger.

The tiger bared its fangs angrily.

"Do you mind?" it snarled. "I'm trying to eat here, whoever you are!"

"Cheshire," the Doctor said. "Stop! It's me! Time, remember?"

The tiger's eyes narrowed...then widened again.

"So, it's true...the Doctor is in. About time."

"Yes, yes, now put her down!"

The cat's lips formed what looked like a pout.

"Oh, must I?" it almost mewled. "I haven't had a bite all day..."

"She's with me."

The tiger blinked, turning towards Ace, and then back towards the Doctor.

"...One bite?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Put her down _now,"_ the Doctor commanded, like an owner scolding a house cat.

The tiger sighed, dismally.

"Oh, very well..."

Ace cried out as the tiger suddenly and carelessly flung her through the air. She then let out a soft "Oof!" as she landed on something.

This something was firm, yet yielding, and decidedly NOT furry.

Skin.

She smiled, relieved as she looked into the Doctor's wide blue eyes—which, naturally, now seemed even wider.

He smiled back, and then turned his head back up.

Ace followed his gaze.

The tiger had seemingly vanished, and, in its place, there stood a tall, thin man. He was dressed in a purple tuxedo, complete with a purple tie. His black hair was neatly combed, with a pencil moustache curling over his gently smiling lips.

For half a second, Ace wondered where the tiger had gone. Then, she noted the man's pointed ears, catching a glimpse of long, claw like nails as he put on his purple gloves. Most importantly, she looked into his piercing, yellow, FELINE eyes, and realized it hadn't really left.

"My apologies for my...earlier aggression," the man said, voice as smooth and warm as red velvet which was definitely the same voice Ace had heard from the tiger's mouth. "But, were it not for your scent, I never would have recognized you; you seem to have...er..._changed_ since our last encounter."

The Doctor smirked.

"Indeed," he said, simply.

The cat-man's eyes settled on Ace. He grinned a bit wider, and Ace caught a glimpse of two _very _long, sharp canine teeth.

"Friend of yours?" he purred.

"You could say that," the Doctor shrugged.

"I believe I just did," the cat-man said, then turned his eyes back toward Ace. "No hard feelings, I hope?"

Ace glared coldly, but said nothing.

The cat-man chuckled.

"Stubborn little thing, isn't she?"

"You have no idea..."

"Professor," Ace spoke up, "Isn't there any way you can get me back to normal?"

The Doctor opened up his mouth to reply, but the cat-man cut him off before he could utter a word.

"He likely doesn't," he said, "But I do."

He then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small vial filled with a neon green elixir, closed with a cork. With a smile, the cat-man uncorked the vial and held it out, tilting it slightly towards Ace.

There was a pause.

"Well? Drink up!" he said brightly.

"After you just tried to eat me?"

"It was nothing personal," the cat-man said, still smiling, with a shrug. "Besides, you're with Time, now. I'm forbidden to consume you."

Ace hesitated, then reached up with both arms, and pulled the vial down slightly, taking a sip.

_Tastes like cherry tart, or something..._

"That's quite enough of that, I should think," the cat-man said, corking the vial and replacing it. "Best to put her down now, Time."

The Doctor did so.

No sooner had she been set back on the ground, Ace began to feel dizzy. She looked down as the ground seemed to be getting farther away. She hissed sharply as sharp, stinging pains shot up her neck and through her arms and legs.

Pretty soon she was back to normal. She swayed slightly on her feet, and the Doctor held out his hands to steady her, with his umbrella hooked in the lower pocket of his safari jacket.

"Easy there," he whispered. "The effects take some getting used to..."

"Ugh...I feel sore..." Ace mumbled, rubbing her neck.

"Growing pains," the Doctor said, frankly. "I DID tell you not to leave the TARDIS. Oh, how I wish you humans would listen to me, for once..."

"Sorry, Professor," Ace said, almost meaning what she said. Almost.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. No thanks to this one here," she replied, nodding towards the cat-man.

The purple-dressed alien rolled his eyes.

"Tell me, do all of your species desire multiple apologies, or is it just you?"

"Oh, forget it, Cheshire," the Doctor said. "Her kind simply isn't used to being anywhere lower than the very top of the food chain."

The cat-man smiled wider yet, and eyed Ace up and down, like a specimen under a microscope.

"I see," he said simply, licking his teeth.

Ace shuddered.

The cat-man let out a cackle of laughter, then moved towards the Doctor, who also laughed, and the two embraced, like old friends.

"I must say, it is very good to see you," the Doctor chuckled, smiling.

"It's always a pleasure, Doctor."

"Yes. Well, anyway: Ace," the Doctor said, standing between the two and gesturing as he spoke. "This is Cheshire. Cheshire, this is Ace, my assistant."

"Ace, hm?" the cat-man said, smirking. "I bet the Queen would just eat you up, with a name like that."

"I hope not."

Cheshire laughed again.

"I didn't mean it literally," he said.

"Speaking of the Queen," the Doctor piped up, "How are things here?"

"Oh, you know...time flies when it's always six o'clock," the cat man replied casually, sticking his gloved hands into his trouser pockets.

"Professor," Ace intervened, "Exactly where IS here, anyway?"

The Doctor turned to look at her, biting his lip, unsure.

"Well," he said, at last, "On Gallifrey, we referred to this realm as the Madhouse. But to your kind, and the crrreatures here, it is something quite different."

"What's that then?"

The Doctor turned toward Cheshire, who chuckled again, and answered for him, bowing gracefully.

"Welcome, dear lady...to Wonderland."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter IX: Searching Rogues**

The Knave of Hearts may have been a small man who was hardly the prettiest book on the shelf, but what he lacked in appearance he made up for in sturdiness, will, and mental prowess. The hood of his cloak was pulled up, half-hiding his eyes in the twilight as he walked through the forest. The Knave was sure to keep one leather-gloved hand on the short sword at his side at all times. His small size meant no tree branch could touch him. He simply stepped away from any rock that was too large to step over and moved around it. He kept his eyes focused ahead of him, scouring for the lost Time.

"We will never understand how you can move faster than us, when we are so much taller," grumbled the King, who was rubbing his nose after banging into a tree branch for the umpteenth time. The King had been too busy trying to catch a bread-and-butterfly to see the branch in his royal path.

The Knave ignored him, scowling.

Suddenly, the little figure stopped, and smiled. The gaps between his few, crooked teeth glared from his mouth as he looked down, for he had no need to crouch.

"What is it?" the King whispered, approaching the imp. He looked unsure whether to crouch down or not, as his highness feared ruining his royal trousers with the common dirt and filth of the forest.

"Footprints, sire," said the Knave with a smirk. "And do you see how they follow this other set?"

"Yes..."

"I think we've found our Time."

"Aha! Brilliant!" the King cried out, spinning his cape about.

The Knave barked out a command in a foreign tongue. Suddenly, as if from nowhere, the Card Guards appeared. Their chrome heads twitched as their loose wires sparked.

"Guards," the Knave shouted, "I have reason to believe that these footprints lead to Time, himself. Locate and apprehend him and anyone that is with him. It is important we keep him alive, if we are to discover the location of the Looking-Glass. If he resists, however..."

The Cards nodded in understanding and vanished once more.

"Ah, Knave," the King sighed melodramatically, "Is it not grand? The Day of the Jabberwocky is very nearly upon us! We can scarcely believe it! At long last!"

"Quite," the Knave said simply, and sat down upon a nearby rock, and took out his blade, examining it for dirt. "May we make a small inquiry of Your Majesty?"

"By all means," the King said, with a proud grin.

_At least SOMEONE shows us SOME respect we deserve,_ he thought to himself.

"Has the Queen seemed...different, recently, to you?"

"Different? How?"

"Well, what I mean is, has she not seemed to grow more...shall we say...'docile' as of late?"

The King raised an eyebrow.

"If you call the missus and her...violent mood swings 'docile,' then yes."

The Knave chuckled.

"Relatively speaking, of course, Your Majesty. I don't think I'm being too absurd: even earlier today, the courtier she wished to execute was given a pardon by her. It has been over a month since the last beheading!"

"Oh, who can bother with lengths of time when all the bloody clocks here read six?" snapped the King, completely ignoring the point the Knave was trying to make, "Months, days, weeks...who cares? Not us!"

"If I may be so bold, Your Majesty," the Knave pressed, as patiently as possible, "Might I confess an observation of mine?"

"Well, we suppose so...what is it?"

The Knave leaned upwards, and whispered, carefully, "I do believe the Queen is getting soft."

The King blinked.

"'Soft,' you say? Soft how?"

"Well, perhaps she is weakening; the rigors of politics and her inconstant moods have caused her strength as ruler to wilt like a cut rose. Our great leader who once ruled with her vivid red-hot fury and passion seems to have faded with age and her unstable condition. Each pedal grows more frail, with the crimson flushed from its form, until there is nothing but a withered husk. Personally, I believe our realm will require a strong ruler, once the Day of the Jabberwocky does arrive."

"Yes," the King murmured thoughtfully, then smiled. "Not unlike ourselves, eh?"

The Knave gave up.

"Yes," he said dully, returning his attention to his sword, and beginning to sharpen it, "Not unlike yourself."

"Oh, how wonderful it would be to hold sway over our dominion completely, without our beloved over us! But we couldn't," the King said with a sigh and a shrug. After a moment's pause, he glared at the Knave, leaning down to his level. "Knave...do you realize these thoughts are treasonous?"

The Knave did not answer.

"We would advise caution, Knave," the King went on. "We wouldn't wish to mess with that one...best to let sleeping cards lie."

"I have no such intentions, sire," the Knave intoned.

"We should hope so...for your sake. Our sake, too..."

Just then, another bread-and-butterfly flitted past, and the King was compelled to chase after it.

The Knave groaned.

"Imbecile," he muttered.

The Knave was alone now, as he stared at his sword and gazed upon his dreadful reflection.

"Such a horrid creature stares back at me. It has no beauty. But, truthfully, I always found such a phenomenon to be…overrated. Beauty fades, and like the rose it has but a short time in this world."

"But the boulder, though not one of nature's most handsome objects, endures. It bears the scars of ages, bygone, but it holds its ground as steadily as it held it before. Strength is the trait we attribute to this loathsome creature, as it remains unmoving in the worst of storms and the most trying of tides. Wonderland will need a strong ruler. And soon enough, I shall be the head of Wonderland!"

He turned around, careful that his words would not be heard. He knew that in Wonderland even the trees had ears.

"No denying; the Queen has grown too gentle, and the King is an utter buffoon. Wonderland needs a strong leader, a true leader who will usher in the era of the Jabberwock. Upon this sword, Wonderland will have such a ruler."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter X: Pick a Card, Any Card...**

"Hold it. So you're telling me that a funny world in a children's book is this place?"

"Quite so, Ace."

"Professor, that's the most ridiculous thing I've heard."

"I'm serious."

"B-But Wonderland only exists in fairy-tales! Stories for children," Ace insisted, running up in front of the Doctor. The three of them, including Cheshire, had been walking through the woods—side by side—for some time now.

The Doctor sighed.

"Ah, humans: always ignoring the facts that are staring them right in the face. Does this seem like an illusion to you, a world of fantasy and fairy tales?"

A hard question to answer considering that in the blink of an eye, Ace had been taken from twentieth century Earth to a strange alien colony where she would meet this strange little man covered with question marks who traveled inside an old police box that was bigger on the inside and could travel throughout the whole of human history. However, she knew these fantastic realms were no illusion. She knew that wherever (and whenever) she was, it had to be the real.

"No," Ace finally answered, begrudgingly.

"Then it must be real! For heaven's sake, this isn't rocket science, let alone quantum mechanics..."

"All right," Ace muttered. "If you say so..."

The Doctor sighed irritably, and continued on, eyes determined and stony. Ace watched him carefully for a moment; she had been with the Doctor long enough to know that whenever he deviated from that persona of the "whimsical adventurer," something was wrong.

She turned to Cheshire, who had been silent this whole time, walking with his hands folded behind his back.

"So, if this is Wonderland, then you're the Cheshire Cat, right?"

All three stopped walking as the cat-man grinned and saluted Ace, standing straight as a scratching post.

"The Grand Chz'zhr of Katoseuss; former president of the Nine Lives Alliance," he purred, smoothly, smirking. "But everyone here calls me Cheshire. At your service."

"Right," Ace said flatly, raising an eyebrow, and turned back to the Doctor. "Professor, how do you know him?"

"Well, before he was ultimately brought to the Madhouse, I once helped Chz'zhr and his people in defeating the Hellish Hound of Hades, who planned to invade Katoseuss, and enslave the local population."

"Even amongst the Galactic Federation, mongrel mutts and us felines seldom get along!" exclaimed Cheshire.

The Doctor smiled slightly, eyes turned heavenward, recollecting this particular adventure, "Thankfully the Cerberic forces were diverted by the Sacred Orb of the First Life's Leisure. And ever since then, we've been the best of friends," finished the Doctor with a short nod, looking at Cheshire, who nodded back.

"Funny...you never mentioned him," Ace retorted.

"Didn't I? I could have sworn I mentioned Nine Lives Alliance. Yes, it must have been after I told you about my encounter with the Terrible Zodin? Surely!"

"Zodin?" asked Ace, puzzled.

"...Oh, well, I suppose it is rather difficult to relay over seven-hundred years of time travel when you're mostly dodging arrows, death rays, and the odd strawberry fondant surprise. You can hardly get a word in edgewise," the Doctor noted. "Now…"

The walk went on.

"Okay. So, we're in Wonderland. How? Why? What now?"

No answer.

"...Professor!"

"Ace, not now!" the Doctor snapped, holding up a hand. "I'm trying to think."

"You mean you don't know?"

"Well, I believe I have an idea-"

"Is it a good one?" Cheshire broke in, smiling.

Ace glared at him quickly, then turned back to the Doctor.

"Not at the present. No. But it seems to be our only option."

"And what would that be?" interceded the young companion. "And for that matter, how come people on Earth know about this place? How did _Lewis Carroll_ know? He lived centuries before there was space travel, and I'm guessing this place is a bit farther than the Moon."

"It is, and it isn't."

"What?"

"One thing at a time, Ace. I swear, I will explain later," the Doctor said, quickly. He continued to walk, using his umbrella like a cane. "For now, all you need to know is this: we are here, in the Madhouse, and it is one of the most deadly places in the whole of time and space. And now it may be even more deadly, if the time lock is broken..."

"Madhouse, time lock...what does all that MEAN? Professor, I-"

"Never mind, never mind! Right now, it is imperative we find our way to Card Castle. I, for one, would like to know just how we got here and, more importantly, how we can get out."

Ace sighed.

"Fine..."

Cheshire chuckled.

"Not one for explaining things, is he?" the cat-man purred.

"You have no idea."

"I think I do, madam. I think I do."

Just then, the Doctor stopped, staring straight ahead.

"Oh, dear," he whispered.

"Professor? What is it, what's-"

Ace froze.

Out of nowhere, a circle of tall, lithe, silvery, faceless figures had appeared. Each of them were marked with images of playing card signs. Their heads—battered with loose wires protruding from their skulls—occasionally twitched. However, they were otherwise motionless, like an army standing to attention. They awaited orders, and the Doctor the arrival of such a command. The Doctor recognized these figures from a past life, and knew just what they were capable of.

"Robots," Ace inquired, reaching for her bat should the need arise.

"Not just rrrobots...Rrraston Sentries," the Doctor whispered back. "They act as guardians of the Madhouse, but it appears they've been tampered with. Look at that circuitry, inside their crrranial cavities. I had a terrible run-in with one back in the Death Zone on Gallifrey, but this is far worse..."

"How worse?"

"They're faster than lightning...practically undetectable, till it's already too late," the Doctor said grimly.

"So we didn't see them coming."

"Precisely. And, now," he added, noting the Rastons' paint jobs, "They appear to be in the wrong hands..."

One of the Rastons suddenly flicked its wrist, and a long, sharp blade snapped out of its sleeve into its hand.

All the others followed suit.

"Well, what do we do now?!" Ace hissed.

The Doctor did not answer, but held up his umbrella like a sword, as if to fend off the inevitable...and in that moment, Ace found the answer to her own question.

_Now, we pray. _

_**Holy Blackjack!**_

_**How will the Doctor and Ace get out of this one?**_

_**Will they be bedeviled, bedraggled, and BEHEADED?**_

_**More importantly, will the Doctor finally start having an actual role in the story that bears his name, instead of following the path of Colin Baker in "Revelation of the Daleks" (or David Tennant in "Love and Monsters," and "Blink," for that matter)?**_

_**The answers to these questions and more in the next part of "Dr. Who: Descent Into Madness!"**_

_**Same Hat-Time, Same Hat-Channel!**_

…

_VS: I love this Hat-exit, but we are SO __**NOT**__ keeping it!_

_Me: Ooh, pretty please? (puppy eyes)_

_VS: Your puppy eyes shall avail you not! The Great and Powerful Van Skittles forbids it, lest you wish me to include a magical Unicorn in Part Two!_

_Me: I would say, "you wouldn't dare," but then I'd be forgetting who I am talking to._

_VS: Heh heh...yes. Ohh, I love it when I'm nasty!_

_Me: ...You know how high I hold you, my bizarre Brony-Whovian friend, but your impression of Vincent Price is just awful!_

_VS: How about Gilbert Gottfried reading Edgar Allen Poe?_

_Me: Please, don't._

_VS: ONCE UPON A MIDNIGHT DREARY, AS I PONDERED WEAK AND WEARY...!_

_Me: HA! Okay, I'll confess, that was good! Though it is very likely Edgar Allan Poe is rolling eight times in his grave right now..._

_VS: Most likely. But, personally, I wouldn't take it to tell-tale heart!_

_Me: [Slaps Van Skittles over the head] Leave the puns to me._

_VS: I know, I know...the Great and Powerful Van Skittles will be here all week! See you all next time for part two of Doctor Who: Descent Into Madness! Now with more Unicorns!_

_Me: I'M the one publishing this story, you know. No Unicorns for you and your Brony cult!_

_VS: Very well. Unicorns are SOOO overrated, anyway! It's all about Alicorns now (am I right, Bronies?)! Yousee,they'relikeaPegasusandaUnicornrolledintoone ,andrecentlywhentheleadcharacterof "FriendshipisMagic," TwilightSparkle,wasturnedintoanAlicornprincess,Iwa sallexcitedand-_

_Me: "__**SILENCE!**__ I __**KEEL **__YOU!" GOONS, END TRANSMISSION!_

_VS: (whisper) Pinkie Pie..._

_Me: __**SHUT IT, YOU NUTCASE!**_


End file.
